Black Holes and Revelations
by smilelikey0umeanit
Summary: Jack is in hospital and has three last requests for Gerry. This sounds horrible, I know, but I've tried to make it not too traumatic for you! Told from Gerry's perspective. Rated T for obvious reasons and a bit of swearing. Feel free to review!


**A/N: Rated T for serious character illness and a bit of swearing from the boys. Written to Starlight by Muse, although this is far from a songfic! By all means give it a listen whilst reading though. The title is pinched from the title of the album Starlight features on. Feel free to write me a review and tell me what you think of this as I haven't written fic in over a year! Also-get your tissues out, folks, that's all I'm saying. **

**Disclaimer: I don't own New Tricks, but imagine the fun I could have if I did! Also apologies to Muse for taking their song/album titles, I don't own them either! **

He'd always hated hospitals. It wasn't the strong stench of bleach, the bright lighting or the sterile environment. It was the sense of uncertainty, the not knowing whether your loved one was going to live or die. Everywhere he had seen throughout the past night, he had wondered who had lived out their last minutes in that room, who had heard the worst in this corridor, who had paced back and forth, much like him, waiting anxiously for news that never seemed to come.

He glanced at his companion in this seemingly endless wait. Brian had given up pacing hours ago, probably on orders from Esther, and was now sat staring at a point on the pale green wall opposite him, behind which lied Jack. Their Jack. Just a few hours ago, they had been in the pub, celebrating Friday night, and the end of a long, complex murder case. Afterwards he'd gone home, had another pint and watched some telly, then woke up to his phone ringing, and Sandra's trembling voice telling him he needed to come to the hospital right now, Jack's really ill, they think it's a heart attack, get Brian will you please and hurry up Gerry.

Now five hours later he was here, at the hospital, with Brian. Jack was stable, but he kept slipping in and out of consciousness. Apparently he was physically exhausted from the trauma of his heart stopping for a while, and his age wasn't helping. The doctor had said other things too, but all he could focus on was that look in his eyes, the one he could detect from years of being a copper that said 'things ain't looking good.'

From the brief moment he and Brian had seen Jack, they had to agree with the doctor. They'd wheeled him into a private room on Sandra's insistence, and he was hooked up to all these multi-coloured wires and tubes and beeping monitors. His 'niece' had held his hand the whole time. He and Brian had decided that she should be the one to stay with him through this; they could spend all the time they wanted with him when he got out of this place, he'd told himself.

He knew this was a slim possibility, not a fact, but he had to keep up a facade for Brian, who was still staring at that same spot on the wall. This represented how he felt somehow, fixed in limbo between normality and grief. Trust him to get all poetic at times like this, when he really needed to stay strong for his friends. What would this do to Brian though? He'd got annoyed for days once when they'd accidentally bought the wrong brand of teabags for the office, what the hell would he do if Jack was gone, forever this time?

Not only would he have to support Brian through this, but Sandra too, no matter how much she fought against him. In that phone call, she sounded absolutely terrified. All he wanted was to hold her tight and kiss her hair and tell her everything would be okay, soon enough. The door opposite him opened almost silently, and Sandra appeared from behind it. Christ, she looked terrible. She had no make-up on and her hair hung limply, almost to her shoulders, but her eyes were tinged with red and she was as white as a sheet. Somehow this made her eyes an even brighter blue than usual. Brian rose to his feet slowly.

"He wants to speak to you, Brian, alone. He...doesn't think he has much time left." She whispered, her voice croaky. Brian nodded and slipped into the room, closing the door as quietly as he could manage. The younger man held his arms out, and Sandra closed the distance between them quickly. She pressed her head into his shoulder and let her tears escape into his shirt, not even bothering to control her sobs. They stood like this for a few minutes, then he gently guided her into a chair.

He honestly couldn't think of anything to say to her, to make her feel better. All he could do was to keep holding her tightly, occasionally stroking her hair. She hardly moved the whole time, her body frozen with shock and fear of the unknown. Jack had been there for her almost all her life, taking over the role that her father had selfishly abandoned: could she really manage without him?

Brian finally emerged after about half an hour, although to him it had felt like an age. Sandra lifted her head from his chest.

"Is he still okay, does he need anything?"

"Same as he was when you left him, bit more tired though. He wants to see you, Gerry." Brian said, returning to his seat facing the wall, rubbing his face wearily.

As he walked into Jack's room, he realised he was scared. Scared of seeing his friend in this way, scared of this being the last conversation they had. If it was, then he needed to make it matter. He quietly pushed the door open and entered, sitting down on the chair beside Jack's bed. The room was fairly small and dimly lit. He suddenly felt claustrophobic and found it more difficult to breathe, like Jack's illness was killing him too. The older man's eyes followed him as he tried to steady his breathing.

For the first time, he looked at his friend. Still hooked up to multiple wires and tubes and God knows what else, he was completely still, except from the movement of his eyes. This told him that although Jack's body may be failing, his mind was still very much intact. He'd cursed himself for the cruelty of this thought, but earlier he'd wished it wouldn't be like this, that Jack would remain unconscious or not be able to think straight, because at least then he could pass away silently, to his Mary, without him knowing that anyone interfered or tried to prevent what he'd wanted, albeit secretly, for years.

"Gerry?" The rough whisper of his name shattered the silence.

"Sorry mate, I'm just a bit..." He trailed off, not knowing what he was supposed to say in this situation. He never had been good at this kind of thing.

"Shocked? I understand y'know. Was like this with Mary. " Jack responded.

"Yeah" was the only response he could think of.

"If I ask you something, will you make sure you do it?"

"Course I will, mate. Anythin' you want." He answered quickly.

"There's a few things actually," Jack's voice began to croak even more, and Gerry had to lift the cup of water by the bed to his mouth so he could drink. "Will you help Esther look after Brian when I go? Make sure he doesn't touch a drop of booze, ever. "

"Mate, you ain't going nowhere yet, we'll 'ave you out of 'ere in a few days, you'll see,"

"Don't take the piss Gerry, you know I'm dying." He snapped.

What the hell was he supposed to say to that? He decided not to retaliate as he usually would, with a "Bloody hell, calm it mate", but instead opted for "You know I will, Jack, you don't need to ask me."

"Good. Sandra too?"

"She's the best thing that ever 'appened to me, not to mention one of my best mates, course I will."

"Bloody hell, Gerry Standing's best mate is a woman, who'd a thought it?" He joked, his voice breaking again. He tilted the cup to his lips again.

"Is that it?" He asked, thinking there'd be another request.

Jack paused, staring at him. "Yeah."

"You sure there isn't anythin' you want me to sort out? House or anythin'?"

"Nah, it's all sorted. Cheers though Gerry." He said, trying to smile. His eyes began to close; he looked much better than he had earlier, much more content.

They remained like this, in companionable silence, until he decided he should go and let Sandra spend some more time with him, before the inevitable happened. He rose as quietly as he could from the chair and began to move towards the door.

"Gerry? One more thing?"

"Yeah?"

"Tell Sandra you love her, will you?"

He turned on his heel to face Jack. The older man met his eyes, still with a questioning yet knowing look in his eyes.

"One day, mate, one day."

"That's good enough for me."


End file.
